


Can't Hear a Damn Thing

by Boxstorm



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 5+1 Things, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1487911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boxstorm/pseuds/Boxstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Clint refused to wear his hearing aids (and the one time he refused not to).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Hear a Damn Thing

1.

“Fuck no!” Clint can’t tell how loud he’s yelling, but judging from the wince the Doctor is giving him, it’s far too loud for the small clinic room he’s in. The woman to the Doctor’s left moves her hands again, in the same circular motion, and Clint knows it’s sign language, but has no idea what she’s trying to say. It’s more than a little bit frustrating.

Clint shoves the small box back across the desk again, has half a mind to throw it across the room, but he knows the value of the small hearing aids inside, and even in his incensed state, he’s not one to destroy something that expensive. He doesn’t need them, though. Sure he can’t hear now, but he’ll get his hearing back soon, and this will all have been a waste of time. He says as much.

The sad look on the Doctor’s face as she hands him the paperwork with his diagnosis only serves to make him angrier. The paperwork he does throw across the room, crumpled into as tight a ball as he can manage.

It takes the entry of three of the largest nurses Clint has ever seen to make him calm down. It takes the entry of Phil Coulson to make Clint take the box of hearing aids from the table.

 

 

2.

Phil feels the blast of music like a physical blow as the elevator doors on the floor with Tony’s lab slide open. He takes a moment to compose himself and get used to the noise before walking in. He turns the corner and is surprised to find Clint perched on a lab bench, bobbing his head to the beat. The other Avengers tend to avoid Tony’s lab as much as possible, partially to avoid grievous bodily harm, and partially because the volume at which Tony blasts his music is likely permanently damaging to not only one’s hearing, but one’s cardiac health as well.

Phil sidles up to Clint, leaning against the table. He won’t be able to get Tony’s attention until there’s a lull in the music, so he settles for raising an eyebrow at Clint, clearly questioning Clint’s presence in the lab.

“How can you stand the noise?” Phil yells, fighting to have himself heard over the music. As it turns out, his effort was wasted as Clint smirks, and passes a small box to Phil. Phil opens the box to find both of Clint’s hearing aids nestled safely inside.

_Can’t hear a damn thing._ Clint signs at him, grinning and tossing him a wink.

 

3.

The meeting drags into its third hour, and The Avengers have had nothing to contribute for at least 45 minutes. Phil isn’t sure why Fury doesn’t dismiss them and let them all go home, but his question is answered as the topic of conversation suddenly swings back to The Avengers’ involvement in the battle. The Avengers are all, unsurprisingly, caught off guard by the sudden change in focus.

“Sorry, sir, could you repeat that?” Steve asks, coughing awkwardly, a faint blush highlighting his cheeks. Phil absolutely does not smile surreptitiously at that.

Fury repeats himself, with significantly more swearing than the last run through, and each Avenger answers his request for more information as best they can until the conversation makes its way around to Clint, who is staring unblinkingly at a space on the wall and completely ignoring the conversation.

“Care to join us, Hawkeye?” Fury asks. Clint doesn’t respond, and there’s an audible intake of breath from the junior agents present in the room at the sheer gall of the action. Phil, on the other hand, simply rolls his eyes and flicks a folded scrap of paper at Clint’s face. Clint starts as the paper bounces off of his cheek, turning to look at Phil and tilting his head in a look of confusion.

_Fury wants more details. Put your hearing aids back in._ Phil signs across the table, and Clint winces, fumbling with the box his hearing aids are kept in, slipping both back in and taking a moment to fiddle with the volume settings before answering Fury’s question.

 

4.

“Can’t wear ‘em.” Clint says, in that slightly-too-loud, vaguely slurred way that means he’s not wearing his hearing aids, “It’s too hot. They’ll break and I don’t get a new pair for another three months.”

They’re on an op in the middle of the Saudi Arabian desert, temperatures reaching record highs, and Clint has to sit out in it in position to take out their target who may or may not pass by on his way between two AIM bases. Their ready-made safehouse (courtesy of Stark Industries) is little more than a shipping crate, but it mercifully has air conditioning, and provides sufficient protection from the sun, but Clint’s position is almost entirely unsheltered and while Clint is more than willing to put himself in such a position he is adamantly refusing to do the same to his most important pieces of technology. Phil can’t say he blames him.

Instead, Phil nods, holding out a hand for the now familiar small box and tucking it carefully into the pocket of the suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, turning back to Clint with an eyebrow raised. Clint nods in approval, picks up his rifle and a six-pack of water bottles and heads out into the sand and sun for another two-hour stretch of surveillance.

 

5.

Phil would like to say that this thing between them is new, and really the whole showering-together-with-possible-hand-jobs thing definitely is, but the emotions behind it have been simmering under the surface for years. He leans in for another kiss, revelling in the small noises Clint is making, and in the fact that he can act on whatever impulse he may have now that this thing between them has solidified. Clint is equally pleased, if the insistent way he’s running his hands over Phil’s ass is any indication. Phil allows himself to be pulled in closer, grinding his hardening length against Clint’s thigh and pulling back to take in the half-lidded look of pleasure on Clint’s face. Clint’s grin turns even filthier, if that’s possible, and he slowly sinks to his knees under the spray. Phil is sincerely glad that Clint’s hearing aids can’t be worn in the shower as he makes one of the most undignified noises he has made since his adolescence. Clint does not, however, miss the way Phil staggers back against the cool tile wall of the shower for support as Clint takes the head of Phil’s cock into his mouth and sucks it down to the base in one fluid movement.

The whole thing is over embarrassingly quickly, and Phil is left panting into Clint’s mouth, clumsily fisting Clint’s dick to completion. Clint’s litany of curse words is nearly drowned out by the spray of the shower as he climaxes with a shout and slumps against Phil’s shoulder. Phil knows that Clint can’t hear his quiet praises, but Clint will feel the vibrations in his chest, and know what Phil is saying anyway.

 

+1.

Clint is nervously pacing back and forth in the small waiting room and Phil is half tempted to reach out and tug him into a chair, his nervous energy making Phil anxious. Phil understands, however, that Clint needs to be doing something right now, in order to avoid a full-on breakdown. He also needs Phil to be completely calm, at least outwardly, so Phil simply sits, right ankle crossed over his left knee, Stark Pad on his lap, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he pretends to read a debrief from The Avengers latest mission.

Clint suddenly drops down into the chair next to Phil, tapping his foot instead of pacing and it’s no less distracting, but Phil can’t find it in himself to mind too terribly. He simply reaches out and places one warm hand on Clint’s thigh, rubbing light circles into the denim with his thumb. Clint turns to him and smiles sheepishly, taking Phil’s hand in his own and holding tight.

The door opens, and Clint’s grip tightens suddenly, threatening to cut off Phil’s circulation entirely. Both men turn to look at the woman standing in the doorway, expectantly.

“Are you ready?” she asks, and Clint all but leaps to his feet, dragging Phil with him as he nods emphatically. A second woman walks in, then, a small pink bundle cradled gently in her arms and a huge smile on her face. Phil worms his hand out of Clint’s, gesturing to his husband (and isn’t that a thrill) to take the bundle.

Clint asks if he’s sure, biting his lip as though trying to hide the fact that if Phil takes the baby (their baby, and wow) first Clint might explode, and Phil just smiles and nods.

Clint reaches out and takes the baby gently in his arms, grinning down at her like she hung the moon. She coos quietly up at him and Clint’s grin gets even wider. He looks up and Phil can see the tears gathering in the corners of Clint’s eyes. Phil smiles softly, allowing himself to be dragged over, kissed brutally, and introduced to his daughter for the first time.

“Hi.” Clint says quietly, stroking her head gently, reverently, “we’re your daddies.”

**Author's Note:**

> Plot? What is that? Legitimate endings? What are those? Actually finishing a fic? I may have done that!
> 
> I apologize if I made any mistakes re: hearing aids. I did some cursory research, and used what I've learned from various patients, but I don't use them myself so I don't have the sort of first-hand knowledge that this sort of story probably requires. Let me know if anything is catastrophically incorrect and I'll do my best to make any applicable changes.


End file.
